


I Got Nothing (but my aching soul)

by orphan_account



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: F/F, Serious TW for eating disorders, Seriously don’t read this if you struggle with any of this, TW anorexia, tw alcohol abuse, tw bulimia, tw character death, tw vomit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:35:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24376609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The shower’s cold but Gigi’s blood runs colder. She’s sobbing, hoping that science got it wrong and that tears can shed calories.
Relationships: Gigi Goode/Crystal Methyd
Comments: 14
Kudos: 43





	I Got Nothing (but my aching soul)

**Author's Note:**

> I am not romanticising eating disorders. I suffer from them myself. I wrote this in half an hour and just feel the need to get it out of my system. Please please please do not read if you think you’ll be triggered. 
> 
> Give me love if I broke your heart x

Gigi doesn’t have an eating disorder, or a problem with food, or whatever other romanticised term you want to use.

The number on the scales represents her commitment; her dedication to her artistry, how far she was willing to take it. She tells herself there’s nothing wrong with being a workaholic. Crystal tells her she needs paid leave and a vacation from her brain.

Her ritual was the same every morning, whilst Crystal was still asleep in bed, Gigi would quietly roll out of Crystal’s bear-like hold, close and lock the bathroom door, and strip.  _ It’s just so the number’s accurate,  _ she tells herself, and not like the extra 0.1g of her keeping her shorts on would send her into a mental breakdown.

She’s 6’2” and a hundred and fourteen pounds of shame.

The shower’s cold but Gigi’s blood runs colder. She’s sobbing, hoping that science got it wrong and that tears can shed calories. Crystal had made her breakfast, given her a hug before gently encouraging Gigi to eat at least half of the contents of the bowl. Every bite was akin to a gunshot, but at least that pain was visible on the outside.

If eating a spoonful of muesli was a bullet, then her body was a warzone. Crystal told her that her skin was the same colour as a milk bottle, but at least they had a small waist. She wore ‘blanket couture’- Gigi’s new fashion line consisting of dozens of fluffy blankets wrapped around her in some sort of sarong style dress, trying to keep herself warm. Her once voluminous, brunette hair fell out in clumps when damp and Gigi would flush it down the toilet once she’d finished brushing it. It was symbolic of something, she was sure. Maybe her soul leaving her body, but maybe just her dinner.

The thrill of Gigi’s corset being too big to reasonably cinch her in anymore made her cry of happiness. Crystal sat in the bathroom and cried too.

She was a worrier by heart, a carer by nature. There wasn’t a bad bone in Crystal’s body and Gigi cared about her in a way she would never care about herself. She didn’t know how to help her girlfriend. She wasn’t a nutritionist, or a therapist but she was filled with patience and kindness and could only hope that it was enough.

Gigi started walking to her gigs, her suitcase full of drag the only thing keeping her upright, the only standing between her and the floor. She loved the club; vodka was lower in calories than anything Crystal forced into her mouth, and she could easily blame the puking on it too. Dancing burnt up her body fat, and she’d walk home in the early hours of the morning with a warm heart and an empty stomach.

99 pounds was the goal. The double digits excited her. She’d be happy then.

It was early evening on a Friday in late March when Crystal got the call. She dropped her phone on her foot and ran out to her car with no shoes on. Her hands shook as she grasped the wheel, praying to any god that would listen.

She found her on the pavement about 6 miles from the club. Her skin was deathly blue, the ice that had built up in her digestive system for not being used in so long was seeping out of her veins. Her jaw was sharp enough to cut her thighs open, eyes sunken into her gaunt face. Gigi was also covered in her own puke, but that was the least of Crystal’s worries as she scooped her up, a wretched whimper leaving her throat when she lifted Gigi with absolute ease into the back of the car.

They sat in the bath together, Crystal holding Gigi with force; scared she’d slip under. She couldn’t even hold her own head up, it lulled drowsily on Crystal’s chest as she cleaned her girlfriend up. She wrapped Gigi in a towel, almost losing her cool when it wrapped twice around her body with room to spare, and sat her down carefully on the bed.

Crystal talked. Gigi cried. Crystal also cried. 

Crystal wrapped her up, held her tight in her arms, rocked her soothingly to calm the mania bouncing through her veins.

Gigi puked a couple more times into her own lap, screaming and jostling violently when Crystal had to put her down to grab a towel. 

She laid Gigi down, drowned her in blankets, scared that she’d freeze to death overnight and held her like it was the last time. 

  
  
  


Lana Del Rey’s Young and Beautiful played as they left the church. It was raining, because  _ of course it was,  _ and Crystal’s black dress shone with wet droplets from the sky. 

_ It’s okay, Geeg. No more tears.  _


End file.
